Maison Squirrel

About this location

Stepping into Maison Squirrel feels like walking through a time capsule that’s been left to rot. Inside, the chandelier still clings to a water-damaged ceiling above peeling wallpaper and broken furniture, while a dining room holds a faded tablecloth and a vase of long-dead flowers, frozen mid-meal. The bedrooms are heavy with dust and scattered papers, floral bedspreads slowly being eaten by the damp. Outside, the brick shell is barely holding up under a partially collapsed roof, its overgrown yard swallowed by willows and scattered debris—a quiet, decaying remnant of Antwerp’s forgotten domesticity.

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